


Proving a Point

by WhatIfIAmInsane



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, light PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:12:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatIfIAmInsane/pseuds/WhatIfIAmInsane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's cofined himself to his bedroom for weeks now and after a case John is to find out about what he had been doing there all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proving a Point

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for considering reading this. I haven’t written anything in a few years and this is my way to get my arse up again. It’s not going to be perfect but I’m happy if you enjoy it a little bit. Don’t expect anything major, this is just a short thing written together on a whim.

“Sherlock, what the fuck was that?” John panted, leaning against the wall in their hallway.  
Sherlock just grinned manically, “That was great, wasn’t it?”  
John shook his head, “I don’t even know. It was completely off the role, but I can’t even tell anymore what would normally be considered ‘great’ or ‘completely fucking terrifying’.”  
“Ah, come on, John normal is boring. Normal is so predictable,” the detective ran his hand once through his hair dislodging a few leaves which had tangled themselves in the dark curls. 

Autumn truly had London in its claws now and dodging beneath trees or jumping through hedges had left their coats awfully damp and covered in fallen leaves. They had just escaped the wrath of an antiquities dealer who was selling stolen goods surprisingly open in his little shop. Sherlock had insisted that they were able to get the needed information themselves without having to go through the official routine and Lestrade. Somehow thieves weren’t that into someone photographing their trophies and their accurate accounting about each and every offence. John still couldn’t understand how stupid one had to be to not try and conceal anything at all. In the end, they had rather taken the route of a quick escape than risking a fight with the dreaded official consequences. Still, the shopkeeper had been remarkably fit and Sherlock had to use all his wits and knowledge of London’s streets to shake him off, all while texting Lestrade with the little hint that he might want to check up on that particular antique shop.

“Sherlock, he was chasing us with a fucking musket!” John interjected whilst they climbed the stairs.  
With a flourish the other took of his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair, toeing off his shoes. “But he would’ve never managed to aim well enough to hit one of us. Besides, I’m not even sure if the thing wouldn’t have backfired spectacularly. You know antique weapons are not the most reliable sort.”  
“Yes, but this should’ve been a relaxing walk through the city, Sherlock. I did not plan on running for my life when I left the house"  
Sherlock just raised an eyebrow his face clearly asking what the other thought was so bad about the turn their little stroll had taken.  
John just sighed, “I need a cup of tea. I’m exhausted and the wet weather is really rather uncomfortable. Do you want one too or are you going to disappear into your room again? What are you even doing there the whole time?”  
“I’m fine”, Sherlock called already closing the door to his room behind him.

John shrugged and continued to make his, how he thought well deserved, cup of tea and slumped down on the couch. He was relishing in the luxury of actually being able to use their couch for about a week now. That was how long Sherlock had already stayed confined to his own room whenever they were at home. It wasn’t by far the most eccentric behaviour the detective had shown, but slowly John was beginning to wonder what went on behind the old wooden door. Two days ago his curiosity had gotten the better of him and while the other had been out annoying Molly at Bart’s, he had tentatively ventured into the room expecting some sort of experimental setup or perhaps even aliens.   
What he had found was thereby pretty disappointing: The room looked like it always had. There were no chemicals, no specimens, nothing which could have been of interest. Inside were just Sherlock’s clothes in their respective drawers, the other’s laptop, a few notebooks which could be found all over the flat, some knick knacks Sherlock thought of as either too precious or too embarrassing to put elsewhere in the flat and general ‘bedroom stuff’. 

Since that little trip had brought him nowhere nearer to discovering what his flatmate was up to in his spare time, John was constricted to fantasising which was neither satisfying nor a thing he wanted to do for too long because it always ended in some fantasy of Sherlock exercising some weird sex practices alone in his bedroom and that was a direction John forcefully did not try to think. Especially, since he had witnessed with his own eyes that the detective was not at all completely above the carnal pleasures. That case had been something John very distinctly did not write or think about. That case was lost somewhere in the depths of his drawer never to see the light of day on his blog. He did not think about how Sherlock’s body had been pressed against their suspect. Or how he had kissed as if his life depended on it. Or even how the whole scene had be one of the most erotic John had seen although both parties had still been fully clothed. No, he definitely wouldn’t think about it. Just like he didn’t think about the jealousy that had welled up when he unsuspectingly stepped into the room. That was all something that he desperately tried to forget.

He had been so lost in his thoughts that his tea had gone cold and just as he wanted to get up to set the now useless drink aside he realised that Sherlock was standing right in front of him. In his dressing gown. Just in his flimsy, thin, silk dressing gown. A dressing gown which clung to every part of the other’s body as if it was expecting punishment should it hang too lose at some place. John looked up at his flatmate with big, surprised eyes and a mouth gone dry.

Sherlock just looked down at him expectantly before giving in frustrated when he realised that there wouldn’t be an answer from his friend. With long fingers he plucked the mug out of John’s hand, sat it down on the floor and then pushed the other back into a reclining position on the couch, crawling onto his lap and mashing their lips together.  
John was so taken aback that his body reacted with muscle memory and returned the kiss, trying to keep up with Sherlock’s mouth. It took a bit until his brain was back on track and he started to push Sherlock away and looked confused at the man sitting on his lap. “Pardon?”

“What?” Sherlock snapped trying to get his lips back into the proximity of John’s.  
“Sherlock, just wait for a second”, John managed to wrestle his friends body into immobility, sitting on the other’s legs, arms pinned behind his back and one arm braced in front of Sherlock’s chest. “God, just tell me what this is about?”  
Sherlock’s eyes were pitch black, chest heaving, straining against John’s hold. “I… you…” he shook his head trying to regain control over his words, “I’ve concluded over the course of the past weeks that you are attracted to me. Considering you being a person who craves intimacy and the social construct of a relationship there are two possible ways this would play out. Either you’d look for someone else who can satisfy your craving thus in the long run move out and leave me which is unacceptable or I’d make a move. So, I made a move and now stop pretending you don’t want this.”

John chuckled at Sherlock’s stream of words. Yes, it was something he had thought about and he would’ve probably not made a move, considering Sherlock way out of his league. He probably couldn’t have brought it over his heart to leave the other, though.   
“What? Why are you laughing?” Sherlock asked confused still trying to break free of John’s hold.  
“Keep calm and stop struggling”, John smiled, “You are way too worried and we need to talk about this which we won’t be able to do when you attach yourself to my lips as soon as I let go of you.”   
“John, don’t be so slow”, Sherlock whined, writhing on John’s lap.  
“Shush”, John smiled, “I need to be slow because otherwise we’ll end up on the wrong pages and I’d really like to do this right.” He gently began to move his fingers where they were splayed on Sherlock’s right pectoral. “Can I let go of you and still talk this through?”

Sherlock nodded, eyes glazed. John gently let go of Sherlock’s limbs, resting his hands calmly on the other’s waist still giddy with the feeling that apparently he was actually allowed to do that. “So, what is this? Are you conducting some kind of weird experiment? If yes, do take into account that I am not in favour of it.”  
The detective rolled his eyes, making an exasperated sound. “No, like I said: If we don’t embark on a relationship, you will inevitably leave me for some petty woman.”  
“So, you just don’t want to lose your personal keeper who makes you tea and generally clears up after you?” John asked a bit hurt.  
“No, I don’t want to lose you”, Sherlock murmured.

John smiled softly up at Sherlock brushing his fingers up and down the other’s waist. He was a bit overwhelmed by suddenly having a lap full of consulting detective. “What do you want then? Do you want a relationship or not?” Sherlock blinked at John and bit his lip, nodding slightly. “Then we’ll try that and see how it works out.”  
“Now, can we stop the talking?” Sherlock purred, straining against John’s hold again, “I don’t want to have gone through all the research and preparation in vain.”  
“Oh god”, John moaned thinking about what kind of research Sherlock had probably conducted over the past days. Well, only the detective could call it research, everyone else would refer to it as ‘watching porn and wanking’. The doctor smiled and let go enough for Sherlock to surge forward and push their lips back together. It was amazing, now that he allowed himself to enjoy it. Sherlock’s lips were plush and soft and the other tackled kissing with the same ruthless focus as he spared for everything else. That and his lap full of writhing Consulting Detective managed to pull deep moans form him fairly quickly. He would have been embarrassed any other time but this was Sherlock and it was like suddenly being allowed to wallow in luxury. 

The other had already dropped his hands to fumble with the zip on John’s jeans. “Slowly, we’ve got time”, he rumbled, stilling Sherlock’s hands, “A lot of time and things we need to do” He brushed his hands to Sherlock’s waist and untied the silk dressing gown the other was wearing to reveal creamy skin.   
“No need for that, I’m already prepared”, Sherlock said quickly, shrugging out of his robe and attaching his fingers back to John’s waist, trying to decide whether to open the shirt or trousers first. “You’ve done what?” John wasn’t sure if he had just heard correctly and stopped his hands on Sherlock’s warm skin.  
“Do keep up. I spend the week researching every possible thing there is about sex and then decided based on probability what you’d most like wanted to do or expected of one of your partners. Since your last male on male encounter lies far back in your past and you’ve made a point of only dating women for the past two decades of your life, I expect you’d like to ‘top’.”, Sherlock fired off, “Which means I as well took the necessary precautions and consistently prepared myself. I have to say I don’t particularly like it, but I don’t care. If this is how it’s going to work, I have no problem. Although, I don’t trust these internet forums an awful lot, they do say that either way nothing compares to ‘the real ting’. Whatever that means.”

John had listened to Sherlock’s ramblings until that point and then covered the other’s mouth with one of his hands to get him to stop for a minute. “Could you just keep quiet for a moment?”  
Sherlock nodded.  
“Good.”, John took his hand away, “Do you actually listen to yourself from time to time?”  
The detective’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.  
“Everything you’ve just said is completely bullshit. I mean: Who am I to tell you whether you should inform yourself about sex and how? But it’s not about assuming what someone would do or worse doing something you don’t feel comfortable doing. Sex is something you work out together on the go.” John explained seriously.   
“But isn’t it..?”  
“Stop trying to be a step ahead of me here. You can deduce all you want once we’ve established some ground rules but for now we have to do this together, okay?” John was straining to keep calm, “We see what we like and then go from there and there are so many other things to do apart from penetrative sex. Have you even thought about that possibility?”  
Sherlock shook his head, glancing down slightly.  
“Okay, let’s start there. Want to move this to a bedroom? It might be a lot more comfortable.” John proposed and put his arms firmly around Sherlock’s waist, pushing Sherlock to a standing position, draping the silk fabric back over his shoulders. “Come on. We can go upstairs if you like.”

John pulled Sherlock gently along, up the stairs and into his own room. The dressing gown was not concealing a lot, the expensive fabric falling loosely and more importantly openly around Sherlock’s form.   
“God, you are beautiful”, the doctor smiled and tugged Sherlock back into a kiss. His hands were rooted firmly to Sherlock’s waist. Their lips fitted together perfectly, John’s face angled slightly upwards to make up the height difference between them. Sherlock moaned into John’s mouth, pressing closer to the other’s body.   
“Let’s do this right,” John breathed and tugged the bit of fabric from Sherlock’s shoulders to fall onto the floor, nibbling down his neck. That pale long column which was normally concealed by a scarf, an accessory the other would definitely need again when John was done. The pale skin was too tempting and by the slight whimper Sherlock was releasing, he was not objecting. 

It was true, it had been some time since John had shared his bed with a man last but he thought he still knew a few things and otherwise he could always start with what he liked himself and work from there. The dark haired man was definitely responsive so far.   
John pulled away when he was content with the mark he had left, moving his hands to undo the buttons on his shirt.   
Sherlock looked a bit put up when the touch disappeared and John had to laugh gently, “Hey, just let me get out of my clothes, too. You are quiet impatient, aren’t you?”  
“No, not impatient”, Sherlock growled, “I just don’t like unnecessary time delay.”  
“That’s the definition of impatient.”  
“No, that’s: easily annoyed by someone’s…” Sherlock had to stop because John was pressing their lips together, to silence him. “Do kindly shut up,” he murmured with a grin and bit lightly into the plush lower lip of his friend, “And help me get undressed.”   
Sherlock was okay with that and sat to work so soon they were both lying on John’s bed naked and pressed together.  
“You’re really lovely," John hummed appreciatively, letting his hands wander across the lines of Sherlock’s body, dipping into hollows.   
Sherlock was moaning and arching his back, pushing his body into the contact. “Please”, he breathed, reaching out with one hand to grip John’s shoulders, the other was fisted tightly into the bedding.   
“Please what?” John asked, lips brushing over a protruding collarbone, “Tell me what you’d like”  
“I want you to touch me, please,” it was more of a sigh than a spoken sentence but John smiled.   
John crawled up so his body was lying alongside Sherlock’s, his own erection brushing against the other’s hip. He put his hand first on Sherlock’s waist stroking there in small circles before wandering closer. 

“I want you to look at me.” With a lot of effort Sherlock peeled his eyes open and tried to focus them on John’s face. “There you go,” John smiled and as a reward ran his hand firmly once over Sherlock’s cock, pulling an obscenely loud moan from the other’s mouth. “Oh you’re vocal. You’ve been so responsive, it’s a delight. You’re whole body is writhing and shivering, I bet you haven’t even realised it." John’s voice was low and gentle, keeping Sherlock occupied. As soon as the words had left his mouth Sherlock went ridged, obviously trying to control himself. “Don’t”, John warned and closed his fist around the other’s cock, “Just enjoy, you are perfect no matter what your body does.”   
Sherlock’s guards were slowly dropping again and he pushed into John’s hand, seeking more contact. “Come on," John held Sherlock’s face turned towards him and offered a bit more pressure, “Look at you. It feels good, doesn’t it? That’s what sex is. Giving and receiving pleasure. Trusting someone so you can let yourself fall. It’s nothing more.” He pushed his lips to Sherlock’s, holding him close and murmured, “I want you to come and I want you not to think” It was enough to tip Sherlock over the edge making him moan out loud and go taut as a bowstring before he shuddered and spilled over John’s hand.   
“So beautiful”, John marvelled and kept stroking lightly until it would become too much. Then he just held the other against his chest, dropping kisses to his face, helping him calm down again. 

When Sherlock had come to his senses again he immediately began to move mumbling, “I should…I have to…”  
“Nope”, John grinned and pulled Sherlock close enough so the other couldn’t move, “We can sort that out in a minute or I can, on my own.”  
“But it’s unfair…” Sherlock’s protest was drowned in another kiss. John emphasising, “If I think something is unfair, I will let you know. This was about me proving a point and that point is: You don’t have to do anything, it’s all about what you want to do.”  
Sherlock grumbled and pressed a kiss to John’s neck, “Then I want to.”  
“I can’t argue with that,” John laughed and tipped his head back to give Sherlock a bit more space.


End file.
